


A Prophecy Promised

by Wolfboulder



Series: Ned Stark Deserved Better [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Female Rhaegar Targaryen, Ned Stark Deserved Better, switching POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-07-28 05:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16235090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfboulder/pseuds/Wolfboulder
Summary: A prophecy has been promised and it must be fulfilled.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Well here’s another one. 
> 
> This pairing was requested by RJG, who also asked for a more AU focus. Hope you don’t mind that I used a couple of lines from your request. 
> 
> This story has a changing POV.
> 
> Let’s see how it goes.
> 
> This story has no editor, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Important Announcement in the ending AN.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own GoT/ASOIF (Game of Thrones/A Song Of Ice and Fire) or any of its characters, I’m just writing my story in their world.

* * *

The heirs to the Iron throne were all women. Crown Princess Rhaegar, named as a man for Aerys II wanted a son, was beyond a suitable age to marry and no Great House wanted to give up their heirs, for the children of the union would carry the name Targaryen. The Mad King, as he was called by most, feared giving such a position of power to any Southern Lord who played their little game, backstabbing power-grabbing little shits were all they were in the eyes of The Mad Dragon.

 

So, with no suitable men to be found in the South, Aerys turned his pale eyes to the North, a land of barbarians and savages. One man stood out among the Great Houses, a second son with ties to the Vale and the Stormlands. A second born with honor know well throughout Westeros that even Aerys knew of it. A man so honest that there could never be a political bone in his body. No one would refuse the king a second son for his plan. The children would carry the name Targaryen and Rickard Stark could not refuse the Mad King.

 

* * *

 

There was no denying the beauty of Rhaegar Targaryen, the first-born daughter of Aerys II. Only a true fool would deny it, yet that did little to settle the pit in Eddard Stark’s stomach. He may have not been raised in the South where the Game was played in full, but he could hear the whispered words well enough. Chosen because he was expendable, because he was seen as too honest, too honorable. Chosen because he was a nobody. 

 

A second son would always be in the long shadow of the first born. It was one thing to know this from birth, but an entirely different situation for strangers to whisper it behind your back. The young northerner truly felt far from home and even farther from comfortable.

 

The woman he was betrothed too tried her best to put him at ease, offering words of comfort that seemed to melancholy to be truthful. Yet it was the fact he had not one ally that truly isolated him before he could even have a chance to fit in. A second son never truly fit in, always in the shadows and now he had somehow become a piece in the game. A game he had no want to win.

 

A game, if he was honest to himself, he had no chance to win. In the Game of Thrones, you win or you die.

 

* * *

 

Her husband to be would be eaten alive in the courts of King’s Landing and while she held no feelings for the man, she would be a poor wife to let it happen without a fight. Too many things had been set into motion already to let it come crumbling down due to the death of a second son.

 

She hadn’t truly spent time with her betrothed, being to busy with preparations for her marriage, though it was no fault of his. As she watched him flounder in the intensity of the whispers surrounding him she could at least admire his stubbornness, something he would need to survive. He may have been naive, but he wasn’t unteachable. He could be an ally when the time came for her plans.

 

She was surprised to find him the godswood, though she supposed she shouldn’t have been. He was of the North and they held to their old gods with a tenacity that ran in the First Men. He was sharpening his sword by the large oak, his steeled gray eyes focused on his task.

 

“It is unwise to hide from one’s future wife.” She tried to keep her voice light and teasing, but the words sounded much to melodic in their melancholy to even her own ears.

 

Eddard spun quickly his sword moving wide of his body as he kneeled before his rumbling voice settled around her like a warm cloak in Winter and just as serious.

 

“I apologize, your grace, for any inconvenience. I have found this is the only time of day I have for myself.” He rose when she bade him to with a practiced grin on her face.

 

With anyone else, Rhaegar supposed she would have seen the words as a slight, but even with only their limited time spent together she knew he spoke his truth as blunt as the harsh winds of his homeland.

 

“I jest Eddard, you have not inconvenienced me in the slightest, though you did give the Kingsguard a scare when you slipped from under their watchful eye.” In truth she was even impressed he was able to so easily slip their notice.

 

“I had no intention to cause trouble your grace.” His voice was still gruff, but she thought she almost saw an emotion flash across his gray eyes, embarrassed perhaps? His eyes seemed to hold who Eddard was. “Please call me Ned, it’s what my family calls me. If we are to wed, I believe that would make us family.”

 

He said those last words with his voice turning slightly softer and Rhaegar felt she was seeing the true man Ned was, and the small private smile he graced her with seemed to take years off his somber visage. His eyes too seemed to lighten from a ice like coldness to something she couldn’t place. His face was always serious, and it was easy to forget he was younger than she was. She quite liked his small smile, it seemed to give him something that made him stand out. As a second son, maybe that was a reason he looked so serious, or maybe he was as truly honorable and honest as he was said to be. She would add him to the list of mysterious she would unravel.

 

As she sat with Ned on the bench in front of the heart tree, she thought yes Ned would be a valuable ally. Yet maybe something more would come of their marriage if the gods, both old and new, favored them.

 

* * *

 

Ned could not truly read the woman who would become his wife. Ned and Rhaegar were of one mind that they should have already married without much fanfare. Yet the wedding of the heir to the Iron Throne was a spectacle all of the Great Houses would need to attend and to get that many nobles to King’s Landing took time, time that Ned tried to use to get to know the woman he would be bound too. He did not wish to marry a stranger, though he had little choice in the matter.

 

True Rhaegar was a beauty many a lord would scramble through the seven hells to marry and yet he, a man with no political moves to use, would get that honor. He may be a simple second son of the North, but he knew enough of the South to know he would be a target and he wished to at least know who their enemies would be. Indeed they would not only target him but his soon to be wife as well.

 

He wondered if it was weird of him to accept Rhaegar as part of his family, telling her to call him Ned. He wasn’t sure what compelled him too, yet he did. Any time they would interact Rhaegar carried a sense of melancholy and even dread at times, as if the world rested on her shoulders. In a sense may it did, being the heir to the Iron Throne would surely way heavy on any poor soul who would be in line for it. So, he had tried to offer a hand in solidarity, inviting her into those he considered family. While he held no true feelings for the woman, he would do his duty as was expected of him even when he was flailing in water to deep he would make sure she would get to the proverbial shore first. While he was chosen because he was an honorable nobody, he would hold true to his beliefs and values. Those of a true family.

 

* * *

 

She had no chance to warn Ned to be careful of his steps before they were ushered into the throne room at her father’s behest. Both kneeled low before the king and they stayed there before he bid them to rise with a motion of his hand. Rhaegar risked a glance at Ned to see a face she had yet to see on him. It was not the neutral mask of a court noble but rather a cold face, one so like the harsh winds of Winter. She found herself comparing him to his homeland a lot, but he seemed to exude it so effortlessly. The face would serve them well in the court.

 

She turned her attention back at the task at hand as her father spoke, voice bitter and hoarse from being unused.

 

“Rhaegar and the young Stark.” He addressed them, and his voice held a tinge of authority and a hunt of a threat, his eyes locked solely on Ned. “You are not spending time with my daughter. Is she not worth your time wolf? Have I chosen incorrectly for her?” Again, the hint of a threat and Rhaegar feared for the man standing beside her, remembering the green fire Aerys had been obsessed with.

 

“No, your grace, you have not. I have merely made myself scarce to not interfere with anyone’s duties. I shall rectify this mistake immediately.” The voice coming from her betrothed’s mouth was similar to his face, something new to her.

 

The answer seemed to please her father for he smiled, showing off his unkempt beard at Ned. Her father dismissed them easily enough moving past them with less grace than a king should have.

 

When he left the room, both exhaled a sigh of relief, yet the stern visage had not left Ned’s face and it intrigued her.

 

“I did not intend to make trouble for you, your grace. I apologize.” His voice broke the silence that had built, and his head was bowed his eyes staring hard at the stone beneath their feet.

 

Rhaegar huffed out a breath, the man before her much more honest than she was used to. Always humbly apologizing for things he has no need to and truly she had enough. She would turn him into a man worthy of being her husband, starting right now. She would make sure none would question their intentions.

 

“Ned. You will stop bowing to me. You are to be my husband, my equal, and you shall act like it. My father is not the only to whispers words of us and we must make this union work. The choice was taken from the both of us, yet we have a choice now.” Her voice came without its usual melancholy and instead held an intense fire. She was a Dragon talking to a Wolf. She held out her arm and left the choice up to him.

 

The hard gaze was turned from the stone to her and for a moment Rhaegar saw what some whispered about the quiet second son. She saw gray eyes turn to steel and they were directed at her, but the hardness softened and once more he was the Ned she knew.

 

“As you wish, Rhaegar.” His gruff voice once more seemed to surround her, and they walked arm and arm out of the throne room.

 

* * *

 

Ned wasn’t sure he had ever been as nervous as he was at that moment. Not even his first true sparring with Robert had made him nervous, yet here he was about to be married to a woman who was said to be the most beautiful maiden in Westeros.

 

While not as much of strangers as they were when he first arrived, Ned still couldn’t say he knew his very soon to be wife. An air of sadness seemed to trouble the crown princess and Ned had tried, and sometime succeeded in lifting it. Yet it would be only a matter of time before the sadness crept back into Rhaegar’s eyes. While true feelings had not developed, Ned still considered Rhaegar as part of his family. Many might call him a fool to trust someone in the royal family, but she was the only ally he had in the snake pit of a city.

 

Robert Baratheon, his foster brother was currently roaring with laughter as Ned grumbled about being poked and prodded by a seamstress. Final touches on his clothing for the ceremony she had called it. Torture was what Ned was certain it was. He had been stabbed by the women’s needle more times than Robert had knocked him senseless in their spars.

 

His family, minus his father, were there gathered around him in the small room, whispered words of congratulations were given but Ned wasn’t sure if they were true or not. No one in this situation had a choice, yet Rhaegar had offered him her arm, demanding him to treat himself as her equal and he had, though he still struggled with it at times. They may have not had a choice in how this began but he would be damned if he let himself loathe her for her father’s decision. Rhaegar was right, they had a choice now.

 

* * *

 

The wedding was as boring as Rhaegar feared it would be, her now husband giving her one true smile before the weight of the setting settled on his shoulders. The shoulders that seemed intent on taking the weight of the world if it helped someone he considered family. She had noticed his attempts to cheer her when the words of the prophecy seemed to drown her. He of course had no idea of what burden they would carry, but she was grateful she wouldn’t carry it alone, at least if Ned had anything to say about it. She would tell him of the prophecy tonight before they consummated their marriage. He needed to know before they were truly one body, one mind, and one soul.

 

* * *

 

The days after their wedding Ned could barely look at Rhaegar without flushing red. It was said by all in the realm she was the most beautiful maiden in the land of Westeros. It was one thing to hear that and see her cloaked in robes or leather, and an entirely different thing to see it bared proudly as her husband.

 

He was now Prince Consort of the Iron Throne. Their children would sit on the damn throne, and Rhaegar had told him of a prophecy that seemed to make the weight of responsibility on their shoulders seem heavier, yet at the same time lighter. It was easier to bear the weight with a strong support, yet the weight seemed heavier when it burdened someone else as well.

 

While Ned was able to keep his name as Stark any children from their union will carry the name Targaryen, and no second son could ask for better. Any other second son would have killed for his position and if Aerys was to be believed that was exactly why he was chosen, because he wouldn’t.

 

Robert had joked with his brothers about him no longer being a maiden for days after the ceremony and Ned was glad they were in the privacy of his chambers. He didn’t need any more rumors being spread around, no matter that the jests were true.

 

* * *

 

Rhaegar didn’t know what her father was thinking anymore. Most times while he was mad he followed a sort of twisted logic, but as the royal family, including her husband Ned, were forced to watch as men were burned for false treason. Whispers were racing across Westeros of a coop and Rhaegar enlisted Ned to help squash them before they could reach her father’s ears.

 

While Rhaegar had a younger sister, Visenya, there was pressure on the crown princess and prince consort to produce a true heir for the throne. There was always pressure on a newly wedded couple to produce an heir quickly, yet for Rhaegar and Ned, the weight seemed every heavier for the prophecy that threatened to crush them.

 

The couple laid in one another’s arms after long moments of passion. Her husbands face was pressed into her flat stomach, her fingers running through his hair.

 

“Most parents wish for the children to have a better life than they did, no matter the cost.” His voice rumbled across her skin, and she stared at him, his voice was raw and so real she couldn’t have spoke if she wanted too. Ned was opening to her. “Yet, what would we give ours but the weight of the world that seems to crush even us.”

 

The words were thoughts she had not dared to speak, yet the simple ways of the North had led Ned to speak his mind, be truthful evermore, even if it would cost him his head. Yet he felt safe enough in their private moment to voice his deepest thoughts, and it endeared her husband to her even more. So simple were his thoughts that they seemed able to sift through the mess of the double speak, as a spring breeze cuts through the winter winds.

 

Her hands found his and she brought them to her mouth for a chaste kiss, and she held them long after they fell asleep. The may have the weight of the world on their shoulders, but they were not alone, and they could bear the weight if they shouldered it together.

 

* * *

 

The second son was not as well versed in the double speak and nuances of the courts as a prince consort should have been, but he would not let anything hold him back. What he lacked in knowledge he would earn, and many nights he would burn torches low reading books in the keeps library. When he wasn’t reading on how to rule, he would ready ancient books of prophecy, and the words he would read would strengthen his resolve. The Prince that was Promised was what a wood witch had told Aerys II father. Many had thought it would be Aerys or even his first son, yet Aerys had bore no sons and only daughters. Many eyes with nefarious intent would look toward the union of the oldest Targaryen heir and the second son of the North.

 

Yet as many eyes looked on with interest, for the second son had a quality that drew wild ones to him like moths to a flame. The quality was well hidden even from the one who possessed it. The second son was a quiet man, reserved and even cold to those who were strangers to him. Yet those who he deemed family would see his soft heart and feel his gentle love. The wild wolves of Winterfell saw it from a young age, clambering for his attention and the demon of the Stormlands saw it as well. A companion that would pull them back from the brink when they dared to get to close. He was a guiding light when the darkness was too thick. The second son had what many in the world lacked. He held to a code, even if it would mean his death. He was the quiet wolf, and he was as much a part of the prophecy, even if he knew it not, as the three heads of the dragon and the prince that was promised. The Song of Ice and Fire was being sung, though none but the gods could hear it for now.

 

* * *

 

They spared in a secluded part of the garden. Sword verses war hammer. Robert usually won these bouts but today Ned fought with a ferocity unlike he ever held before. So much injustice was being done and he was powerless to stop it. From the men and women being eaten by the all-consuming green fire, to the cries of his good mother, Rhaella. Rhaegar had sworn, on bended knee, that she had a plan to assume the throne, but she couldn’t put it into motion yet. Had they not have been watched Ned assumed he would have been told of the plan, or maybe Rhaegar didn’t trust him as much as he trusted her. It mattered not, for today he would force Robert to yield.

 

They sparred for hours, until both were too tired to move. Ned had won the day, though only just, having kicked out Roberts leg before he could bring his hammer down and force him to yield. They cooled off with the water from a fountain and ignored the frown from their Kingsguard. Though Ned did look properly chastened.

 

Ned knew better than to talk about the prophecy with anyone, and sadly that included Robert. Though it did not stop him from frowning and that prompted Robert to badger him until Ned finally explained a small smidgen of what was bothering him.

 

“Rhaegar is hiding something from me.” He tried to keep his voice neutral, not letting the sting of pain the stamen brought.

 

Robert though was used to his antic, and though the man was more interested in whoring and drinking himself to a stupor, he would never leave Ned alone when he down.

 

“That’s all these nobles do in this shit hole of a city Ned.” Robert tried his best, in his own way to assuage Ned’s fear. “They lie, and they speak in triples that make one’s head spin.”

 

“You know I have no place here Robert. I don’t belong and the one person I trust, and she hides something from me? What if I was wrong to trust her?” Ned’s voice was gruff from the exhaustion of their spar and his heavy mind.

 

“I don’t believe it!” Roberts roaring laughter caused the Kingsguard watching them to move further away, a frown surely on his face. “You’ve fallen for her! Eddard ‘I have a stick up my ass’ Stark has fallen in love!” If Roberts face wasn’t already so red, Ned was certain he would strangle his friend.

 

Of course, Roberts exclamation would be heard by someone and as a group of ladies walked by giggling, Ned barely had time to hide his flushed face. Shoving Robert over proved ineffective to quieten him, as he simply started rolling on the ground, clutching his sides as the laughter poured from him as if it would never cease.

 

As Ned contemplated shoving Robert off a tower his friend’s laughter slowly died out and a large grin was on his face. The grin was horribly suppressed when Robert noticed Ned’s glare, and a strong arm was thrown over Ned’s shoulder as the two men sat and whispered as if they were still boys in the Eyrie with Robert fawning over the local whores.

 

“Listen Ned, I love you as a brother. Seven Hells, you’re more of a brother than the ones I have. So, for once in our lives I’m going to give you advice.” The friends shared a laugh before the seriousness of the situation set in once more.

 

“In this den of snake, if you can truly trust someone, don’t let it go. You didn’t grow up in the courts like I was Ned. Did you ever stop to think why I ran off whoring and drinking every chance I got? Because these people will drive you to an early grave if you don’t get away. For me it’s wine and women. You though Ned? You never were the type for that, no matter how much I tried to change it.” Robert took a breath and suppressed a laugh once again. “If you do care for Rhaegar, don’t let it go, I know you Ned. You take the problems of everyone so effortlessly, you damn stubborn fool. For once be selfish and don’t let go of her. She might be the only thing in this game that can keep you alive. I’ve heard rumors she calls you Ned, and you don’t offer that to just anyone. Hell, I’ve been on the receiving end of those damned gray eyes of yours when I hadn’t earned the right. You care for her more than you’d let anyone know. Ned don’t let go, just this once.”

 

With that Robert seemed to use up all his wisdom for the next few years and suggested they go to a brothel. Ned cuffed his friend on the back of his head, reminding him he was a married man, and instead offered wine in his chambers. Robert may have grumbled loudly about it, but he followed Ned all the same.

 

* * *

 

Her husbands’ eyes were the windows to his soul. While most people she interacted with had blank faces and passionless eyes, her husbands were the key to his mood. Whether they were as soft as a morning fog or as hard as Valyrian steel. His eyes told of his mood.

 

After the Baratheon visited them for an extended stay, she noticed Ned’s eyes seemed to soften whenever they gazed on her, and she felt oddly exposed under those shifting gray eyes. The feeling wasn’t as when lecherous knights would gaze with lust filled eyes. No, this feeling had her wanting to cover her face, for her husband stared at her as if she was the only women in the world for him. He had vowed as much when they married but men were men, vows are words, and words are wind. Yet, here he was staring on with a hidden emotion plain for all to see on his face. Such honest intensity was not oft found when one played the game of thrones. She idly wondered if his honesty would kill him, before she realized just who he was. No, she had said she would keep him alive, him and his honest gray eyes must live. She wouldn’t voice it but when those eyes stared at her and she felt as if her face was burning, she felt the strength of a thousand upon a thousand men course within her, those gray eyes and the man who possessed them gave her a strength unknown to the world.

 

Her reasonings were selfish of course, as she wished for him to gaze at her for as long as they lived, for she liked the feeling his quiet presence gave her. Maybe this was why wild things flocked to him like moths to a flame.

 

* * *

 

He was wondering if he should tell his wife about his new-found feelings. Not many were lucky to have fallen in love with their spouse, yet he held back. The shadow of being a second son still hung heavy around him. Surely Brandon or Robert even would come riding in and turn the head of his wife, as they did many a woman.

 

Yet when those men were in the room, she gave them nary a glance her hauntingly beautiful indigo eyes gazing so intently into his. Maybe he was letting his imagination get too far away from him. He found himself often gazing at her like a love-sick pup, Robert being the one who pointed it out too him of course. He could not help he had found an appreciation for Rhaegar’s beauty. He’s not entirely sure how it happened. Perhaps it was when they first laid as man and wife and she bared her beauty to him proudly. Or perhaps before when she gave him a choice to walk beside her as an equal. Or maybe he had fallen for her when he first saw her, as many a man before him had claimed too. All he knew was he had fallen, and he had no real intention to rise from it. He would content himself with his staring for now.

 

Though they fell asleep in one another’s arms more often than they didn’t.

 

* * *

 

The news had brought the realm joy, Rhaegar was pregnant, but the parents of the child were holding onto one another as Rhaegar curled her fingers painfully into the arms of her husband. Ned’s words had haunted her, the weight their child would have to shoulder was unfair. She knew it was the pregnancy that had caused her emotional outburst, but she could not help but weep for their child. They would carry a heavy burden. Ned held her, his short and powerful frame the opposite of her tall and lithe one, yet right now she could not have fit to someone anymore perfectly.

 

They were in their shared room, where the two had wordlessly agreed they shall sleep even when they weren’t trying to conceive. When Rhaegar had first delivered the news, Ned had spun her around and kissed her with such passion she was too surprised to do anything but return it. Then the reality of the words and what they truly meant settled in and a spark of pain rose within both of their chests.

 

A prophecy was spoken and with their child it could be fulfilled. Yet three would need to be born, for the dragon had three heads. They had yet to talk about if the children should know, but they knew they would have to tell them eventually, but Rhaegar just wanted to experience the joy of having her husband’s child growing within her.

 

* * *

 

The news spread faster than wildfire, an heir for the throne was on its way, and Ned truly couldn’t be happier that he would have a child with the women he loved. Still, the weight of the prophecy was weighing heavier on his mind for it. The words of the prophecy seemed to permeate the air around him and his wife, his new family. He tried to shake it off when he was with them but the tinge of sadness in Rhaegar’s eyes was enough for him to try and take the burden from her even if only for a moment. He would do anything for his family.

 

There were whispers of a Tourney for the birth of their child should they be born, the many stillborn children of Rhaella and Aerys fresh in everyone’s mind. They had luckily talked the Small Council out of one for their wedding, thinking it was to much of a waste of gold. Yet Ned doubted they could win the same argument again when their child was born. Indeed, he thought when, not if, he refused to think such tragedy would strike them, he couldn’t think that way or the weight would crush him soundly and he could not do that to those who relied on him.

 

Ned took his thoughts of a Tourney to Rhaegar and when she smiled he was certain his heart skipped. Rhaegar was a beautiful woman of that there was no doubt, but for Ned, it was when she smiled truly that she at her most beautiful.

 

“A great tourney will happen, Ned.” Her voice held the strength of the crown princess, but her eyes twinkled as if she was about to reveal a secret to him. “All the lords of the Great House’s will be there as well.”

 

Ned’s head tilted sideways, much the way a wolf’s would when curious. Rhaegar was using the double speak of the courts and trying to tell him something. They were in private and no one should have been listening to them, but they could never be too sure. He mulled over her words carefully. A tourney with all the great houses in attendance. If Ned hadn’t spent months reading over the Targaryen library, he was certain he would not have noticed the implication. Great Tourneys will all the Great Houses involved, with a mad king on the throne. It would be a perfect opportunity, and a dangerous one.

 

“A dangerous tourney as well, many different nobles and knights involved.” Ned’s double speak had improved but it was still lacking, but he still could be passible when the need arose. He was certain his point was received either way.

 

A nod from Rhaegar confirmed she understood, and the smile was firmly in place telling him she was happy he understood. Ned offered her his arm and they walked arm in arm to dine together and discuss the plan in detail in relative privacy.

 

* * *

 

Her husband, contrary to the whispers of the court, was not stupid. He was just quiet in his intelligence. If he didn’t understand something his stubbornness would make sure he found a way too. Whether that was combing the library of King’s Landing or talking to the right people with the right information. He was not well versed in his double speak, but he had another quality that made him damn near invaluable. He made people trust him. He didn’t do it on purpose or with any nefarious intents. He was just too honest and honorable, and it made some of the most hardened members of the game crack slightly under the pressure. It was one of the things she liked about her husband.

 

Of course, she thought of nothing but castrating him as another scream erupted from her throat as the midwives told her to push. All thoughts made of anger evaporated as soon as a babe was laid in her arms. The hair of the child was dark with a shock of a lighter color running through it. Pale skin that was hard to tell which parent it came from seemed to brighten the room and purple eyes that held a darker note than her own. When Ned came into the room, his steps hesitant, Rhaegar smiled at him, presenting their son to him with joy evident in her eyes.

 

As Rhaegar watched her husband rock their new born son gently, she told the maester her sons name. Aegon Targaryen was born, and an heir was given to the iron throne. As her sons cries slowly calmed, the last thing she remembered before sleep took her was the bed dipping under someone’s weight and a soft, gruff voice commanding her to sleep. She gladly listened, just this once.

 

* * *

 

The Tourney of Prince Aegon Targaryen would be held in Storms End, hosted by Lord Paramount of the Stormlands Robert Baratheon. If there was anyone who could probably enjoy the festivities of a tourney it was the oldest Baratheon, yet many in the realm wondered if the man would be able to pull off such a tourney. Smaller whispers wondered if it was the young Eddard Stark had used his ties to Robert Baratheon that led to him being the host of such a grand thing.

 

Many nobles were surprised when they arrived to find Storms End in a buzz for the coming festivities and a very sober Robert Baratheon greeted his guest, his booming voice heard clearly as he announced the beginning of the festivities.

 

Yet as the ones not in the know celebrated the life of a healthy Aegon, the Lords of the Great Houses would start to convene with whispered words and notes slipped into hidden pockets.

 

A prophecy was being fulfilled, and the song of ice and fire grew louder with each new step, and at its center stood an heir to the Iron Throne and their second born husband dancing to an unheard melody.

 

* * *

 

Ned was not sure he had ever been as nervous as he was at that very moment. The Tourney had been a success on both accounts, yet even with the support of the Lords of Westeros, there was no telling how the ascension of Rhaegar would truly go. Aerys had earned the moniker Mad King for a very well-known reason and they were ready to declare him unfit for rule.

 

It was a mad plan, but they lived in a mad world and its known throughout the world that all Targaryen’s hold some madness in them, so Ned was kneeling in front of the lone large oak of King’s Landing godswood. Even with the bark of the tree bare, Ned could feel the presence of his gods. The weight on his shoulders seemed to lessen when he stepped into their realm.

 

He offered thanks for his son as he always did when he had the time to. Today though he had an ultimately selfish request of his gods, though he wasn’t sure they would find it favorable. He begged, indeed begged, for even if everything went to hell in their plan, that his wife and child be spared. He would let it be his life that was taken instead of theirs, if only they survived. For Rhaegar may not have feelings of love for him, but he had them for her and their son.

 

As he oiled his sword beside the tree he thought he heard a melody, so familiar yet strange and it was gone as soon as it came, but he heard it all the same.

 

* * *

 

It had not ended peacefully as Rhaegar had hoped it would. A deep part of her heart told her this was how it would always go, with her father dead and her claiming the throne with blood on her hands. Her Ned, and she’s not entirely sure when she decided he was hers, had kept her safe when a fight had broken out, though she had one of the best swords’ money could buy on her hip, he had stood in front of her. Robert Baratheon fought beside her husband, protecting her and she watched the foster brothers fight in devastating tandem.

 

The Kingsguard did their duty, defending their liege and attacked them when he ordered, Rhaegar had hoped they would side with them, but as she remembered her mothers’ silent tears as Aerys entered her chambers, she knew they wouldn’t.

 

Robert and Ned fought as if they were born for it, with Roberts hammer swinging in huge swipes, with Ned covering his opened sides. They truly were devastating when together and gods help any who would wrong them both as her father had now done.

 

The action that nearly stopped her heart was when Ned took a blow meant for her. She had joined the fray her slender sword dancing around the ones that meant her harm, and her chainmail stopping more than one sword point, though she had suffered a cut below her eye.

 

A thrust from one of her fathers’ guard would have pierced her breast had Ned not stepped in front of her, his body shoving hers away from the thick of the melee. The blood flowed heavily from her husbands’ side as he fell to the ground. A roar and a scream shook out at the same time and a hammer blow from Robert severed the head of the Kingsguard member. After Ned saved her life she couldn’t remember much other than when her sword entered her fathers’ chest and his dying breath was used to curse her.

 

The throne was not as important as the man who had saved her life, not as important as her Ned. Robert had crushed one more head with his hammer, roaring curses at the surrendered Kingsguard as he stood protectively over the still form of her husband. Jon Arryn was voicing commands as the room waited with bated breath for a maester.

 

Rhaegar noticed none of this though, for her mind was focused only on the light rise and fall of her husband’s chest. His eyes so unfocused a moment ago found hers with a startling amount of clarity. They shined with an open emotion so easily read that terrified her. But as those gray eyes were hidden behind his eyelids a new fear gripped her. One that seemed to carry a familiar yet strange melody.

 

* * *

 

He was in a field of snow with winds whipping around him but the noise they should have made seemed so very distant. The air should have been cold, but he felt warm. The sun was high and seemed frozen there, as if the day would never end. It was a peaceful place and carried the same feeling when he walked through the woods of his old gods. Suddenly he was in a forest during winter, the same peace and warmth following with the change. In front of him was a familiar dark pool of water with a large stump of a tree in front of it and behind the stump was a familiar tree with a face carved in its trunk. He stood still, eyes darting around, hand trying to grip a sword that wasn’t hanging at his side.

 

Voices pounded in his head as countless eyes peered at him unseen. He hit his knees in the snow, clutching at his skull, a soundless scream erupting from his throat. The voices, spoke from nowhere and yet everywhere, each speaking the same words as if from the same mouth but a different mind behind each.

 

“The Song Has Started.” The voices spoke, in a whisper and in a shout.

 

As quick as it came, it went and when Ned raised his head, he found himself eye to eye and nose to nose with a dark furred dire wolf. They matched breath for breath and Ned knew, somehow, that if he found the beat of the beast heart it would match his own.

 

As Ned rose to his feet, so did the powerful beast, they stood at a similar height, and Ned wondered if the gray of the creature’s eyes were his own as well. Yet before Ned could truly gain his footing he found himself on his back. The dire wolf standing over him growling at an unseen threat and a bestial roar coming from overhead.

 

The cold finally seemed to creep into Ned’s bones. Ned noticed the bright sky darkening as winter clouds moved in and the sun lowered, letting the moon take its frozen place in the sky.

 

As Ned felt himself falling, he heard a so familiar melody, and the words that caused him such immense pain reverberated in his thoughts as the darkness overtook him.

 

What it truly meant he didn’t know.

 

* * *

 

The great beast laying across her husbands’ pale body gave the maester who had come to check on Ned the scare of his life. Yet when Rhaegar entered the room, hand resting on the hilt of her sword the beast she found was not the fierce snarling giant the maester had described. Indeed, the beast was large, spanning more than the length of the bed it was laid upon. Yet it made nary a sound when she entered the room, merely sniffing in her direction before returning its gaze to Ned.

 

Rhaegar took the opportunity to study the creature. She was almost certain she knew what it was, but their kind had not been seen south of the Wall in over 200 years. Yet, before her stood a dire wolf and it had entered the highly guarded room undetected, almost as if it was always there, just unseen.

 

As she moved closer the beast turned its gaze to her and she noticed the gray matched that of Ned’s, and other than shifting its weight it made no move against her. When she sat in the chair by her husbands’ bed and she had not been mauled by the beast she slowly reached out, palm out toward the mystical creature.

 

The dire wolf sniffed her hand for a long moment, before nudging it toward Ned. The dire wolf laid its head on her husband’s chest as Rhaegar held onto his hand, giving it a squeeze before recounting her day to her unresponsive husband, hoping that what the maester had told her was true. She had just found Ned and to lose him seemed too great a burden.

 

* * *

 

When Ned awoke it was too a heavy weight resting on his chest, yet it didn’t hurt to breathe as he remembered it had when he had been stabbed. With that thought his body jerked and he noticed many things, the discoveries becoming weirder the longer he went looking for them. The first being other than a scar along his side he felt no pain from what he was sure would be the end of him. The next was the most startling. The same beast from his vision, or dream, or whatever he had experienced was looking at him with gray eyes filled with impossible expressions. As if hearing his thoughts, the dire wolf sniffed out at him, the tongue of the beast running the length of his face multiple times before he could stop it.

 

He laughed as the beast hopped from the bed and it groaned without the extra weight. The beast trotted toward the door, standing in front of it before turning to look at him with a strange intelligence. Once more as if it heard his thoughts, its tongue lolled out of its mouth and Ned would swear it was grinning at him.

 

The beast cocked its head to the side and moved back toward the bed, and Ned realized something else. What in the seven hells was this beast doing here? He was pondering this when the dire wolf rose itself onto the vacated bed. Gray eyes staring into his and Ned knew, he knew, the beast before him had not come of the natural world, and with that unbidden knowledge a name came, one that tasted familiar on his tongue, as if he had always known it but had forgotten it.

 

“Echo.” That was her name, and it fit true, for she was not only an echo of his own soul but one of a time long thought past. An age when there was magic to be found.

 

* * *

 

Finding the dire wolf hovering above her husband was not an unusual sight anymore, in fact she had come to accept that if her husband was in the maester’s chambers it would be a given occurrence.

 

To find the same intimidating dire wolf licking her laughing husbands face was not what she expected when she walked into the room as she did every day. The sight stopped her in the doorway, unnoticed. She had spent the last weeks watching her husbands’ body, unknowing if she would see his gray eyes once more. She had thought of what she would say to him when he finally awoke, because she refused to believe he wouldn’t. Many ideas ran through her mind, including one where she slapped the stubborn out of him before her thoughts turned in a direction that set her cheeks ablaze.

 

She coughed politely, and the two looked at her, one set of eyes looked embarrassed the other shone with mischief. The creature was to smart for its own good.

 

Ned stood quickly, bowing before her, and before he could rise she had embraced him at a run, her arms encircling him tightly, tears coming to her eyes unbidden yet not necessarily unwarranted. Strong arms closed around her and she buried her face in Ned’s shoulder. When the hug broke, they didn’t let go of one another, and Rhaegar looked into those gray eyes that had haunted her since her ascension.

 

When their lips touched it was without an urgency or the pressure of their first ones. No, this one was slow, honest, and real. Much like the feelings that had grown within her heart.

 

* * *

 

The air around them had changed becoming charged and Ned would be a liar if he said that some of their nights spent after he awoke didn’t make his cheeks blaze. He hadn’t thought a dragon would take to claiming a second born wolf, yet that was what had happened.

 

The throne room had become one of Ned’s least favorite places in the keep. Ruling was not something he had been born to do, having received a less than stellar education for it. Yet, his own stubborn studies led him to being on the left of his wife. Rhaegar had asked one thing of him when he entered the throne room as her King. To be himself. He had almost stopped walking, to stare at her. He had been told time and time again his head would be lost because of who he was. Yet, he had been stubborn in his ways, unwilling to change. He knew if she asked him to do something he would try and that was more than most would ever get out of him. Yet, here Rhaegar was, a woman raised to walk in the courts and win the game being played, telling him that Ned was who she wished to be at her side.

 

He would do his best to fulfil her request of course, but he was unsure of how helpful he would be as just plain old Ned, a second son chosen because he was too honorable.

 

* * *

 

The two of them made a fine ruling pair, many families wrong by her father had tasted blood in the water and had circled as the sharks were said too. Yet with Queen Rhaegar’s soft voice slyly manipulative and King Eddard’s cold gray eyes, there was trepidation in fully earning their ire. The beast that stayed close to her husbands’ side surely helped, for the gray eyes of her husband were echoed in those of the she-beast.

 

Even with their best effort, word spread across the realm of how the quiet wolf rose from death with an ancient beast by his side, and she had heard whispers of a song being sung by the peasants of the event.

 

_…_

_The Quiet Wolf’s death was despaired. Tears Fell from a maiden fair._

_An Ancient Beast from the Land of Winter. Its cold gray eyes would make one shiver._

_…_

 

The tune one played with the song was haunting, a lament for a life almost lost, a king who nearly died before he took his place beside his queen.

 

* * *

 

There was a grand feast celebrating the first true name day of Aegon, and Ned was seated high above everyone else to the right of Rhaegar. Their son was held close to her chest, a smile on her face. Echo was a constant presence at his wide, her head above the high table they sat at in the hall. As he looked upon his small family, Ned smiled as well. He never thought for a second that he would be seated as king of Westeros, ruling beside Rhaegar Targaryen. The more Ned thought about that particular thought a certain amount of redness appeared on his face and he tried to hide it behind his cup of mead.

 

“And, pray tell, what has my husband blushing like a maiden on her wedding night?” The melodic voice of his wife let him know he had been unsuccessful in his attempt.

 

He debated running for the doors, for it would cause just as much embarrassment but as he looked to his left, a massive fur covered head blocked his view. The damn beast had to hear his thoughts as a tongue lolled out of its mouth, showing off what Ned had come to believe was a grin.

 

A raised eyebrow was all that met his barely mumbled answer and his cheeks heated even more as purple eyes bore into his, concern written within them. He merely shook his head as someone started cheering from the crowd.

 

He would tell her later that night, that once when he was still just a second son he wondered what it would be like to marry the woman whose beauty was sung about in all corners of the world. The woman who he was now married too, the woman he loved and who loved him. A simple boyhood fantasy come reality in the most surprising manner.

 

* * *

 

Their second child and third, twins, would be born a couple years after their son. A daughter that had strong Winter blood in her, with dark hair and pale skin and eyes of two colors, one purple and one gray, came first. Their third child was another son, looking much as his older brother but with gray eyes instead of purple. The boy’s name would be Jaehaerys, after the Old King. The daughters would be Arya, a name to honor her fathers’ side of their union. The parents wore smiles in the long days after the births.

 

* * *

 

Ten years they had reigned, and within those tens years a second daughter had been born, named Dacey, who was silver of hair and gray of eye, once more to honor the land of the child’s father.  Ten years they reigned, and the realm it prospered. Ten years they reigned, and for 10 years their love would grow stronger. The common folk had grown to love their rulers, The Dragon Queen and her loyal, Quiet Wolf, husband, the names were said with respect and none would deny the peace they brought in their ten years.

 

For 10 years a song had been playing and for ten years only the gods could hear it beginning. For ten years the beats rose and fell with each breath and each step taken by the ones who shouldered the weight of a prophecy. For ten years the song was built, its tune speeding and soon the gods wouldn’t be the only ones to hear the Song of Ice and Fire.

 

* * *

 

Cregan Stark was well known in Targaryen history, for he was the reason for the Hour of the Wolf, and yet there seemed to be a forgotten piece of history that laid in that tale. For during the feast of anniversary, celebrating the marriage of Rhaegar Targaryen and Eddard Stark, it was Brandon Stark who walked forward, offering a simple chest adjourned with dragons flying overhead running wolves in a snowy field.

 

In the chest, were something thought long lost to time, much as the beast who stuck to Ned’s side. For in the chest were dragon eggs, and when Rhaegar laid her hand on the largest egg, she felt heat. All eyes in the room were glued to the wonder before them as Rhaegar pulled the egg out of its silk surroundings. A hum of power surrounded the queen and king, as they stared at the egg for a long, unblinking, moment.

 

Rhaegar thanked her good-brother for the most precious gift, and a toast was proposed by her husband and the feast was resumed with a new joy. Magic seemed to be returning and they seemed to be at the center of it. As purple eyes met gray one an understanding passed between them as Ned carried the chest to their high table. The weight on their shoulders seemed heavier in the lively atmosphere.

 

* * *

 

Gray eyes scanned the words written to him at least a dozen on a dozen times. Still they said the same as the previous letters he received from his brother. Deserters of the Nights Watch scared witless and rambling of Others coming again.

 

Deserters were not a common occurrence for a group made of mostly criminals, and too have this many, all speaking of the same occurrence with conviction, many asking for their families to be warned as their final words would have been much more worrying had Rhaegar not shared her knowledge with him. Knowledge of a prophecy and knowledge of a Song. If that knowledge had not passed to him would Echo be by his side? Would Brandon have found dragon eggs in Winterfell? Would he have become a king beside a Queen? The questions mattered little in the long and short of it. What did matter was that he couldn’t ignore these claims, and though he knew it was stupid he knew, in his very soul, he would go to find the truth of these claims. Now, convincing Rhaegar would be the hardest part of his task.

 

* * *

 

Rhaegar loved her Ned and was fiercely protective of him. He was also the most infuriating man she had ever dealt with. His gray eyes bore into her and she almost crumbled under their weight, his eyes were how she read him, and she knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t, let him embark on his mission. She knew if he pleaded with her, used her love for him, she would crumble like a castle made of sand on a stormy beach. She would and indeed had, prayed to the gods, both old and new, that he never once thought to use their feelings in such a way. Her father may have been mad, but he had been right about Ned, he was honorable to a fault.

 

This was the second time he brought up this quest he had assigned himself, the first had been when they were retiring to their room and she had distracted him with her body, shamelessly bare her from to her blushing husband. She was proud of the effect her body still had on him, even though she had noticed parts of it softening as the years crept up on them.

 

Still as her heart told her to distract him and stop his foolishness, her mind, or her soul told her what she already knew. He would go on this mission, whether she sanctioned him or not and if the words of a prophecy were true then he was destined to travel North. She had known it the second he told her of his vision when he was certainly dead, of night taking over the day.

 

She argued he should take some men, anyone along with his faithful dire wolf. Yet he would hear none of it, his mission, his quest, seven hells, his destiny seemed to point to him being alone for this. She had been studying the history of the Targaryen’s more intently than she ever had before. She had a Dragon egg. Something rare but not extinct in Westeros. She wanted to hatch it but knew, indeed she knew, of the last time a Targaryen tried to bring a dragon into the world. She had been born that day. She knew not how dragon were hatched, except that fire was needed. The secret seemingly long lost in the long history of the Targaryen’s.

 

Still, the wish to accompany her husband and do it on dragon back was almost insufferable, but she wouldn’t let a tragedy bring her death, not when she had a family to think of. So, with a saddened soul, Rhaegar granted her husband her approval, and their last night before he left to journey through the lands he once called home was spent in each other’s arms, whispered declaration of love passing freely between them.

 

Her eyes roamed his body, memorizing it to the best of her ability, for it would be long months, if not a couple years before his strong body was in her arms once more. So before he straddled his horse she kissed him. Not like the other time when they had an audience, but one where she pulled him to her, a noise of frustration in her throat. This was a kiss to bring him home. If anyone saw the redness in King Eddard’s cheeks as he rode out of King’s Landing none commented on it.

 

* * *

 

It had been years since he had last stepped foot in the North and when the first cold wind bit at his face he smiled. His family was in Kings landing, as was his home, but if he was honest he was an outsider in the south, for the North was where his blood seemed to sing, not that he would trade his life for the feeling, but it made it easier to be away from his family. It made it easier to breathe. It made his task seem not as impossible. He rode alone, Echo near but out of sight of any people he passed by, the hood of his cloak pulled over his head. He rode normally, and the weather gave the excuse for his hooded head. It wouldn’t do to be caught unaware and recognized.

 

He may have only had half of a plan when he Started riding North, but it soon became more detailed as all his time was spent thinking. He had no real knowledge of the Others, no one really had the knowledge anymore. Yet, Ned knew of at least one man who did a man he had met when he journeyed South to marry. A man whose home was infuriating to find as it was a floating fortress.

 

The Crannogmen were of ancient blood, so ancient they could rival the line of the Starks and one thing remained clear in all stories of the men who inhabited Greywater Watch, they had mated with children of the forest and still knew things most had forgotten. So, his first true stop on his quest was to his friend Howland Reed.

 

* * *

 

Being found half starved and almost certainly poisoned was not how Ned envisioned his reunion with Howland, but he was certainly glad Howland found him instead of someone else. Though he may have abused his power as king when he made a laughing Howland swear that Queen Rhaegar must never learn of this event.

 

While he got what he expected from the heir of Greywater Watch, that is more knowledge of the others and the stories surrounding them, he did not expect his friend to express a wish to join him. Ned wished to refuse his friend, not willing to drag a single soul to where he was uncertain his path would lead. Yet, something in his friends’ eyes stopped him short, agreeing he could accompany him to the Wall and no further.

 

If Ned enjoyed having a companion that could speak as the rode further North, he supposed no one need to know that.

 

So the three of the rode, avoiding people as much as they could, their horses sure and swift in the snow, but their progress was slowed as they ventured father and farther and the snow became deeper and deeper. Still they rode on, faces covered and kept with as swift as a pace as possible.

 

The hole that had been covered by the Northern winds seemed to grow, and he ached to see his family once more, but Ned was a Stark and a Stark always did their duty.

 

* * *

 

Winterfell looked the same as it had the last time he stood in its hall. Hot water being carried through its walls like veins ran blood through a man. He stood in the center of Brandon’s solar the two brothers sizing each other up as they had for years. The tension broke when Brandon laughed hauling his little brother into a fierce hug. Ned’s arms encircled his brother as they had many times. The ache left him while he stayed in Winterfell, but still he knew his mission, knew why he had journeyed North with no guard and no word. Yet Winterfell held another purpose other than a place to rest their tired bodies and have their horses cared for. For it the depths of the ancient keep it held a sword made of dragon glass, one that had been given as a gift to House Stark during the Hour of the Wolf, many things seemed to tie the Starks to his current quest now that Ned truly thought of it.

 

It had been Howland who had told Ned of the stories of dragon glass slaying the Others and had shown him his own spear point made of the ancient substance. They would need more than Howland’s weapon though and thus Ned’s true reason for visiting Winterfell became clear.

 

His brother was surprised that he had asked for the weapon, and as he caught the look in Ned’s eye Brandon for once in his life did as he was asked and gave the sword to his younger brother. Ned stayed in Winterfell longer than he should have, but it was not everyday he saw his brother or his nieces and nephews. Yet, the time came that Ned, Howland, and Echo needed to move onward, and they did with supplies to last them to the Wall and beyond, though Ned had kept his true intentions hidden. He loved his brother dearly, and trusted him, but his quest was one that could not be given whisper too and Brandon liked his wine too much to trust him with this secret.

 

So, on they rode, farther North and then farther still and when the Wall could be seen in the horizon, the weight on their shoulders seemed ever heavier. For now, their true quest would begin, and a journey beyond the wall would come soon rather than later.

 

* * *

 

The wall was as it was the last time Ned had visited it, tall, imposing, and it had an air of something powerful around it. The same air that Winterfell, or Storms End held. The air that someone or something powerful had had a hand in its creation, and it felt as if it would outlast them all.

 

There was no real way to hide his identity once the three of them were guided into Castle Black. If no one had recognized Ned’s face, then Echo’s presence would have told a blind man who he was. Still Ned kept the amount of people who could make the connection was narrowed as much as possible, staying in the Lord Commanders spare quarters while he planned where he would go from there.

 

It was interesting to meet Measter Aemon, Rhaegar’s great grand uncle in person. The three of them had exchanged letters telling of the prophecy and Aemon always seemed to hold a soft spot for Rhaegar in that regard. The man was old, probably the oldest man in Westeros who had lived through more history than most had learned of. He was also a man who many men respected and for good reason.

 

He was the one who would set their course when they left the safety of the wall, armed with rations and a location to meet one of their rangers.

 

Ned denied Howland’s request to join him beyond the wall, but Ned felt bringing Howland as fare as he did was risk enough, though he couldn’t sway the heir of Greywater Watch to leave the wall once he was beyond it.

 

* * *

 

The two of them made good time all things considered, and it was only by Echo’s guidance they avoided many dangers. Aemon had warned of restless wildlings and of course the rumors of the Others. Still it took many days of traveling to arrive at what the hoped was the meeting spot.

 

Ned was of the North and so the cold never truly bothered him, even after all his time in King’s Landing. Yet even he could feel it seep into his bones as the sought cover in a save that was marked with strange images on its walls. Still, Ned felt as if he was being led to every destination as if something dragged him forward even when he wished to stop.

 

A small fire was all they could risk keeping the chill at bay, and Echo was a comforting source of warmth for Ned. The dire wolf had appeared fully grown more than 10 years ago and still moved as if she had not aged a day, though her eyes held a wisdom that could only be found in things of old, in things of a time thought past. He only hoped she would remain by his side, for he would truly be lost without her. The only connection to his family he had in the frozen lands beyond the wall. The sword on his hip a now familiar weight, and a strangely familiar one at that. Once more it seemed he was meant to walk upon his current path and everything from his vision and Echo to sitting in a freezing cave, he was meant to walk this path.

 

Echo nudging him awake was weird, for she usually let him sleep, then he remembered where he was, and he could hear horse hooves, and they sounded closer than a moment before. His hand gripped the swords handle in a white knuckled grip. Echo stood tall, teeth bared and as silent as a shadow she stood, proudly by his side. They would fight, or they would die, together.

 

Their response when a familiar face walked into the cave was to relax. Ned hugged the man fiercely, having not seen him in years, his little brother, Benjen, was standing before him, a Ranger of The Night’s Watch.

 

Two brothers, against a threat that could end the lives of all living creatures. Ned couldn’t help but smile, happy he had someone he knew at his side, though a small voice in his head whispered dark words. Ned tried to ignore it but it was always there, watching, waiting for their time to shine their truth.

 

* * *

 

Beyond the wall was cold and it seemed to seep through their furs, but still a Stark did their duty without complaint, though Ned was certain Lyanna would scoff at that and then proceed to complain about his solemn face.

 

They were tracking a group of Others, at least a day behind them and gaining quickly, though Benjen suggested they keep their current pace, see where these things were going. They needed proof and proof that the Lords and Ladies would believe from their king and queen.

 

* * *

 

Of course, their careful movements were all for naught, for a single White Walker could alert the horde surrounding them and that’s exactly what had happened. They of course ran using the horses Benejn had brought with him. Strong beast with thick hair that could combat the coldness of beyond the wall. Of course, Horses and men could tire, while the dead could not.

 

The dead marched after them restlessly and they rode hard and fast, hoping to gain a moments rest. Yet, when the stopped to catch their breath the dead were there one more, and more and more white walkers joined the horde chasing them. They rode harder, Benjen leading the way, furs pulled tight around their bodies with hoods protecting their faces from the biting winds. Still as hard as they rode, the dead could not tire, and the brothers knew their time was running short.

 

A Ranger and a King were sure they were riding for their deaths, but they rode harder still, leading the horde farther from the Wall, away from the living.

 

* * *

 

They were in a field of snow, a clearing in the midst of a forest. Ned couldn’t help the dark chuckle that bubbled from his throat, he had been so confident in his mission, so confidant on the path he rode for more than a year, perhaps it was over two now, he couldn’t be certain, his mind seemed only able to register the cold that surrounded him. He was certainly lost, having been separated from Benjen when the horde of dead split them up, yet he rode onward, toward the mountain Benjen had been leading them toward. A safe place he had called it, one almost as safe as the wall would have been. Yet at the top of the mountain where he was now was nothing but the clearing.

 

As he slid from the saddle of his horse, it rode off, whimpering and Ned cursed the beast, though when a familiar set of gray eyes appeared in front of his own he was struck with a memory. A memory of a vision, more than 10 years past. The same event played out as it had once before, the heavy, familiar weight of Echo on his chest as she bared her teeth, a dangerous growl erupting from her throat. He turned his gaze the same direction Echo’s was in. The dead had come to the edge of the clearing, standing there, as if waiting. Ned pushed Echo off of him and struggled to his feet, sword ringing as it was pulled from its scabbard. If he was to die, he would die by Echo’s side, on his own two feet, their teeth bared he cursed the dead, daring them to come to their death. As if they were of one mind, the dead marched forward in unison. Ned tensed, and he could see the fur on Echo’s neck bristle. Even if he was to die, he only hoped Benjen had been able to get word South, to anyone who would listen of the true danger, the one that marched toward him. The one with eyes so blue they were unnatural.

 

They met the first white walker head on, black bladed sword swinging clean through the skeleton’s ribs, as Echo tore the spine out of another one. They worked in unison, as if they were born to fight side by side, and soon the bodies piled up, yet as the living tired the dead did not. For the dead could not grow tired, even as they soon had to climb the remains of the dead to reach the living they did not stop. As Ned moved backward, his back hitting a tree, Echo growling at his side. Ned looked at the tree and saw a face staring back from white bark, and Ned felt at peace with what he was certain would be his end, dying in a godswood with his faithful companion by his side. He raised the sword high, point steady at his chest. He would die but he would not turn, no, his death would be much more permanent this time.

 

Yet before the sword could penetrate his chest, a roar could be heard from overhead as horses could be heard from all sides. Ned’s eyes looked above first as orange fire rained down, and his eyes widened as the stream came from the mouth of a beast on the same scale of legend as Echo. His sword spun, lopping the head off another white walker, before he risked another glance around the clearing. Horses with men atop them rode through the clearing, blades of black running the others down. For the first time since the separation from Benjen, Eddard Stark felt hope.

 

As the weight of Echo shoved him back first onto the snow-covered ground and a dragon’s roar echoed above, Ned Stark remembered his vision once more.

 

* * *

 

When Echo tackled Ned to the ground, her heart leapt into her throat, and Rhaegar Targaryen Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, commanded her dragon, Balerion, to burn the living dead with a cry of anguish. Fire and Blood were her houses words, and while the dead may not have blood, they would burn from her fiery wrath.

 

* * *

 

When he awoke, he thought, maybe, that he would be in the same field he was in the first time he died. To feel the same peace he had would have been a welcome feeling after fighting and running for so long. So, when he awoke to see a torch above his head, he immediately went on alert. He was no longer in the field, and he couldn’t feel Echo. For the first time in a very long time Ned Stark was afraid. The fear passed when a familiar whine came from his right, toward the rest of the room. His head felt heavy as he moved it to look, there was the form of Echo’s head, her muzzle crisscrossed with scars. He scanned the rest of the room, and his gaze fell on a form slumped over the edge of the bed, silver hair hiding a face Ned had not seen in a long time. His gaze fell to his hand, the one which had a pale one clutching to it and squeezed back with as much strength as he could muster. He got his one wish, to see his wife one more time. With that thought the blackness of unconsciousness welcomed him with open arms.

 

* * *

 

The War For The Dawn it would be called. The Night King had breached The Wall and had steadily pushed them back with each passing day. Many Lords had answered the call to arms, eager to fight for their lost king and grieving queen. Yet, as many had answered, it seemed just as many decided to sit behind their keep’s walls, ignoring the true threat. Robert Baratheon, Jon Arryn, and Brando Stark were the first to answer the call to arms. Indeed, Winterfell would be the staging area for the livings first real advance against the Night King.

 

Many months passed as the living fought the dead, and as months turned to years, it truly was The Long Night. Even with the new dragon Balerion, the odds were against the unprepared forces of the living. Yet the dead lacked one thing the living was full of. Hope, hope for tomorrow, hope that they could win.

 

As the years passed and the living were fully pushed into Winterfell, the hope began to crumble. For the living had fought and fought and fought, and they tired, while the dead could not.

 

Weariness set into the forces of the living and truly all hope seemed lost. Yet the King and Queen would not let their people down, and so they gathered the full strength of their armies and marched to meet the horde of the dead.

 

The War for The Dawn would end, one way or another, and as the armies clashed a bestial roar mixed with a ancient howl.

 

* * *

 

 

When his eyes opened once again, it was too much more familiar surroundings. The ones of the royal quarters of the Red Keep. His body felt weak, but he still forced himself to move, to rise. When bile rose in his throat he wished he hadn’t.

 

He was covered in sweat, and pale hands pushed at his torso, forcing him to lay back down. He followed the curve of the arm to stare into the beautiful purple eyes of his wife, Rhaegar Targaryen. He gulped in breaths of air, feeling choked as he remembered where he was once again. Soft words were spoken against his neck as slim arms encircled his frame. His own arms circled his wife’s body, his tear stained face buried into her neck, breathing her scent in, assuring himself she was alive. He needed to remember that they had survived, that they had won, that they had done it, together.

 

As the lovers exchanged words of comfort and love, they were content to know that a prophecy fulfilled was a prophecy promised.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this one we will take a small look at the reigning Targaryen Family After the Long Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well here’s another one the second chapter 2 of one of my stories. In this one we will take a small look at the reigning Targaryen Family After the Long Night. 
> 
> This story has a changing POV.
> 
> Let’s see how it goes.
> 
> This story has no editor, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Important Announcement in the ending AN.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own GoT/ASOIF (Game of Thrones/A Song Of Ice and Fire) or any of its characters, I’m just writing my story in their world.

* * *

All hail the Royal Family.

 

“Introducing, Crown Prince Aegon, sixth of his name of House’s Targaryen and Stark.” The applause for the crown prince was deafening, as usual when the royal family was introduced. The crown prince was considered by many to have gotten his mother’s stunning beauty and his fathers’ attitude. His dark hair with a shock of silver running down added to his natural looks, and his dark purple eyes seemed to mix the crown prince’s parents. He was a solemn man with a hard frown but an easy grin, what most of the realm considered a perfect heir.

 

“Introducing, Princess Arya, first of her name, of House’s Targaryen and Stark.” The applause once more was deafening, for Princess Arya was many a young girl dream, with her sword proudly on her hip. Her dark hair and pale skin and it was obvious she took after her father, and the only thing to come from her mother was her one purple colored eye. Some would whisper she was not as beautiful as her mother, having inherited her looks from her father, but none could deny the female knight’s wolf blood and it made her very liked among the common folk.

 

“Introducing, Prince Jaehaerys, third of his name, of House’s Targaryen and Stark.” The applause for a third time was again deafening. The third born child, and twin to Arya, Jaehaerys, affectionately called Jae by his siblings and parents, was fully of the North but with his mother’s grace. He was a spitting image of his father and was said to be graceful even when brooding. Looking better than brooders all across the lands of Westeros.

 

“Introducing, Dacey, first of her name, of House’s Targaryen and Stark.” The applause for a fourth time was deafening. The fourth born and second daughter of the royal family was a perfect mix of her parents. With the Targaryen hair and her father’s eyes. Her pale skin was argued by many to be a perfect mix of her parents as well. She was the attention of many a young lord and noble and knight, for her beauty was whispered to be more than her mother’s.

 

There was an excitement in the air as all four children stood side by side, and all eyes were on the double doors leading out of the Red Keep, for two more must be introduced.

 

“Introducing, King Eddard, first of his name, of House Stark. The Quiet Wolf, The Undying, Hero of the Long Night!” If the applause for the children of the royal couple, then the applause for their King was Earth shaking. None louder than the Northmen and even the man’s children, for Eddard was beloved by all who knew of his actions and even those who didn’t respected the man for his actions during The Long Night. His beard had more gray hairs than dark ones but still he stood straight unbent by time, his frame still strong and imposing with his solemn face, breaking to smile at the people who had come to the occasion as an aged Dire Wolf strode easily and content by his side.

 

“Introducing, Queen Rhaegar, first of her name, of House Targaryen, Queen of The Anadals, the Rhoynar, and The First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, and Mother of Dragons.” Just as for her husband the applause was Earth shaking, and Queen Rhaegar smiled and waved as the applause tripled when she walked arm and arm with her husband to stand beside their children. Her beauty was more mature than when she first married and her face had more lines than she would care to admit too, but she held to a grace that put women and men both too shame.

 

This day would mark another year gone by since they had defeated the Night King and The Long Night had ended. Echo stood tall and proud by the King while Balerion circled the air above the gathered crowds.

 

“Once more, we gather to celebrate the end of a threat that threatened all of the living.” It was Rhaegar’s soft melodic voice that broke through the silence that had begun, her hand held tightly to her husbands. “Once more, we mourn the loss of life the Long Night caused.” There was a long moment of silence, before she continued. “Once more, we celebrate the life that could not be ended, the losses we endured merely made us stronger and together as one realm we defeated the threat and once again we celebrate!”

 

A cheer once more shook the ground and the celebrations could truly begin. Their children, along with a few Kingsguard members watching over them, joined the celebrations in the open courtyard. The laughter was music to the Queen and King’s ears, watching their children, free of any prophecy’s burden, free of a threat such as the Night King, and free to be children if only for a short while longer.

 

A kiss to her temple interrupted the queen’s thoughts and when she looked she saw her husband’s gray eyes, the ones that looked upon her as if she was the only woman in the world. The eyes of the man she loved with her entire being. The eyes twinkled with mischief and her eyes fell to his outstretched hand, the one holding a winter rose, held out for her to take. She did take the flower and pushed in behind her ear, feeling its presence, and in return a kiss was shared. A cheer arose when their people saw it and a blush appeared on Her husband’s cheeks that had her falling in love with him all over again.

 

They feasted and celebrated with their children and their people for long hours, but they were not as young as they once were. Indeed, they had aged, and places once taunt were softening with each day that passed. Yet, still the fiery passion between the king and queen had not died. Instead it seems without the weight of a prophesy resting on their shoulders they found each other’s arms many nights, and it had been years since they had not slept within one another’s arms.

 

Indeed, they were in love, old fools in love, heroes to the Realm, the Song of Ice and Fire to others.

 

Yet, to each other they were simply Rhae and Ned. Too old people in love, and words of love were said so freely, and so truthfully none could doubt their honesty. Rhae kissed the scarred hands of Ned, much as she had many times and it never failed to bring an amount of red to her husband’s face, much as it did just then. Yes, two old fools in love.

 

When they escaped the watchful eye of the Kingsguard, their guard worried not, for they knew they would find the royals in a compromising position in their chambers, words of love echoing throughout the halls.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well here’s the second Chapter 2 done of NSDB,
> 
> As before please let me know what you thought of it and if you have any ideas for something like this for my other one-shots. Who knows maybe I’ll take an hour out of my day to write it up.
> 
> If you do plan to request a chapter 2, please make sure it can be short, I don’t want to write another full-blown story for NSDB just yet. Yet I, like you I presume, need my NSDB fix.
> 
> NSDB For Life!

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Well there it is, hope you enjoyed it! Please review, constructive criticisms are also welcomed as are just general comments. So, don’t feel afraid to comment I usually reply to everyone! As usual, thank y’all for reading.
> 
> So, I knew this story was going to be a monster when I hit 5k words and I still wasn’t close to being done. I suppose this is what happens when I take my time and I’m inspired by the idea. 
> 
> Questions of the Story: Have any of you noticed the correlation between the story titles and the last sentence of the story itself? 
> 
> Hint: All of them were intentional. “Winter in Dorne” is probably the least obvious one. 
> 
> Also, don’t feel bad if you didn’t notice it, it’s fine. I never drew attention to it as it was more for me than anyone else. Still I would like to know if you did or didn’t. If you didn’t please revisit the stories and enjoy a little bit of a “behind the curtain” moment.
> 
> On that note, I will not promise or say that any future story will cover such an expanse of time or be as long. This one I kind of went wild with and while I enjoyed every step of the journey, it did take a significant amount of time. 
> 
> So, everyone knows who Rhaegar is, but know one knows who Female Rhaegar is, and neither did I, so this one was a challenge, one I hopefully pulled off. Rhaegar was a bit of a tragedy, but his tragedy was self-inflicted. I mean why did he think it was a good idea to just run off with a betrothed woman, when he was already married to begin with? Who knows? I certainly don’t. Anyway, here Fem-Rhaegar has a better life, because when Ned Stark has a better life, everyone has a better life.
> 
> I hope I did Female-Rhaegar justice, as I have stated before, I don’t have a lot of experience with GoT/ASOIF and don’t really plan on changing that, though I will continue writing these stories. 
> 
> NSDB for Life! 
> 
> Announcement: 
> 
> With the completion of this story “A Prophecy Promised” the Ned Stark Deserved Better series is officially on hold. I will be marking the series as complete, but please read the full explanation below. 
> 
> I love writing these stories, and fanfiction in general. Yet, I have many other stories and pairings I want to write and focusing on the NSDB stories, while amazing and awesome and so much fun, it’s also so very time consuming. 
> 
> My other story, “DC: Fight For The Future”, has suffered while I focused my attention on NSDB, and I’ve been burning my candle from both ends, and I don’t want to stop writing completely. So “Fight For The Future” is going to get my full attention until its completed, and once again I would really appreciate it if you would check it out on Fanfiction.net which you can find at this link (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12923270/1/DC-Fight-For-the-Future). Or if not there then here on A03 when I post it. 
> 
> I feel like you deserve to hear it from me rather than just wait for a NSDB story that isn’t planned to come out. This isn’t to say that I won’t come back to NSDB (I still have a story or two that I want to write for it) but I want to work on other fandoms and other pairings that have been itching to be written. 
> 
> I truly hope you like my writing enough to stick around for my future stories. Most of them will probably involve rare pairs (which y’all seem to love as much as I do). I don’t want y’all to think I’m just giving up, because I’m not. As I said in “Winter’s Falling Star” I’m only human, and the responses from that made me think y’all will understand this decision as well. If not, then I’m glad you stuck around this long, and I wish you the best in your future reading!
> 
> I want to say, thank you. From the first reader to the last, thank you for sticking with me.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading my story and I hope to see you in the next one, whenever and whatever it may be!
> 
> -Wolfb


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